ee studies."

"I know, Mr. Henley," said poor Eleanor, in much confusion; "at least, I
mean I don't know anything about water-colour sketching, so I ought not
to have said anything; and I never thought that Madame would repeat it.
I was thinking of pencil-drawings and etchings; and I do like to know
one tree from another," she added honestly.

"You draw in pencil yourself?" asked Mr. Henley.

"Oh no!" said Eleanor; "at least only a little. It was my mother's
drawings I was thinking of; and how she used to show us the different
ways of doing the foliage of different trees, and the marking on the
bark of the trunks."

Mr. Henley drew a sheet of paper from his portfolio, and took a pencil
from his case.

"Let us see, my dear young lady, what you remember of these lessons. The
pencil is well cut. There are flat sides for shading, and sharp ends for
outlines."

Madame's thin lips pursed with the ghost of a smile, as Eleanor, with
hot cheeks and hands, came across "the room" to put her theories in
practice.

"I can't do it, I know," she said, as she sat down, and gave herself
one of those nervous twitches common to girls of the hobble-de-hoy age.

But Eleanor's nervous' spasms were always mitigated by getting something
into her fingers. Pencil and paper were her favourite implements; and
after a moment's pause, and a good deal of frowning, she said: "We've a
good many oaks about us;" and forthwith began upon a bit of oak foliage.

"It's only a spray," she said.

"It's very good," said the drawing-master, who was now looking over her
shoulder.

"Oak branches are all elbows," she murmured, warming to her work, and
apparently talking to herself. "So different from willows and beeches."

"Ve-ry good," said Mr. Henley, as Eleanor fitted the branches
dexterously into the clusters of leaves; "now for a little bit of the
oak bark, if you please."

"This is only one tree, though," said Madame, who was also looking on.
"Let us see others, mademoiselle."

"Willows are nice to do," said Eleanor, intent upon her paper; "and the
bark is prettier than oak, I think, and easier with these long points.
My mother says branches of trees should be done from the tips inwards;
and they do fit in better, I think. Only willow branches seem as if they
ought to be done outwards, they taper so. Beech trunks are very pretty,
but the leaves are difficult, I think. Scotch pines are easy." And
Eleanor left the beech and began upon the pine